Mortality Tales
by midnightmuse
Summary: Mort might think it is all behind him, but life seems to have different plans and old friends and demons come to call
1. Chapter 1 Writers block

**Disclaimer I don't own Mort.. or Shooter.. but I made up Clara so I could go play with them both. **

Mort rubbed his mouth half nervously as he looked at the blank screen of his lap top.. as if words would appear there with out the inconvenience of passing through his brain and his fingers to the keyboard.. an inconvenience that seemed to make all vestiges of inspiration swiftly change its mind and head straight back where ever it is it came from, and not even come close to leaving a hint of what it might be in his mind..

"And that last story.. was perfect. the ending was perfect.. and that's the only thing that matters.. " he said to himself.. he frowned at the blank screen as if it were its fault it was empty and let out a frustrated sigh. and stood up.. "Ok.. fine.. don't come today" he said to whatever muse might be listening.. and walked downstairs.. he looked uneasily at the phone.. he wanted to ring her.. but he already knew her answer.. she had hinted, hell blatantly told him already, but something in him couldn't let it drop. He needed that story republished and she was the one who could do that for him.. he told himself it was mainly out of fear of Shooter returning.. he wanted his story fixed.. the ending put right. he had done that.. and Shooter was silent.. as if he had never been... but if it remained unpublished.. he didn't know.. and if he were totally honest. he wanted it published.. it was good.. he wanted to have that for the story's sake..

But he knew. she didn't agree.. oh she agreed it was by fat his best writing for a long while.. pure like it used to be.. uncompromising to editors whims. she really meant. or had he just got lazy.. whatever.. she still wasn't going to work to see it re-published.. she was clear on that.. but in the midst of a new bout of writers block.. Mort had nothing else to do.. but pursue the matter... he picked up the phone and rang her office.. direct line to her. not her secretary. who would answer in efficient cold tones. telling him what he already knew.. that he had just rung Clara Bennet Literary Agents offices. and then .. after knowing it was him.. politely put him off her putting his call through...

Instead he took the inside track.. just as pointless. but he had to do it.. he heard the sigh in her voice as she answered to him.. "Hi Mort" she said.. cheerfully enough.. agents could fake anything" he wryly thought "How lovely to hear from you again"

See" his inner voice said perfect faking.. really she is cringing.. and you know it

"Hi Clara" he said

"How is that new book of yours coming.. 'Reaping time' right?"

"Yeah.. well I got the title.. still.. " he said. and smiled weakly. at her changing the subject on him.. as she asked about the book he was meant to be writing.. 'contractually obliged to write' she often liked to point out.. it was a ritual dance they both did.. her wanting one thing from him.. he wanting something different from her.. he waited a moment.. she remained silent "About that other story.." he ventured.. he could picture the expression on her face as he mentioned it , again

"Actually I am glad you ring" she took the offensive with a shock comment like that.. he paused.. it was all the opening she needed "I want to speak to you about it, actually we can kill two birds with one stone, that conference this weekend, in New York.. the one your meant to speak at, but I know your planning on forgetting about, meet me there. We'll keep the publisher happy and see what we can do about this new version of your story.. Does that suit you?"

Mort tried to take it in, he hated book signings and the conferences where authors were meant to talk about how they wrote. he never knew how he did it... it was understood. although he was meant to do all these things.. he ducked out of as many as he could.. notmally a blind eye was turned by all concerned.. especially with the tragedies of the last year.. but she had baited the hook..too well. and she knew it "I just wanted to talk.. " he meant on the phone. but she sensed blood in the water

"Great I'll book you a room at the hotel.. its a whole weekend affair.. I'll book in too.. and we can see what we can work out.. I'll send you the details.. and its the Excelsior Hotel. very nice place. it'll be like a holiday .. you looked like you needed a holiday last time I saw you Mort.. goodness knows why you stay up at that lake.. where they are SO unfriendly to you.. come to the conference. they will al love you there.. and I'll talk books with you" she said soothingly.. soothing the sting of him already being stuck on a very barbed hook she'd set for him...

Mort sighed.. "We'll talk about Secret Window.. not just this next book?" he asked weakly

"Of course Mort.. we'll talk. I promise.. and I will even send a driver down for you.. so you can take it easy all the way"

"You mean to make sure I turn up" He countered.. finding his wits a little too late

"That too Mort" she laughed.. she had a deceptively nice laugh for an agent.. he smiled despite himself

"Ok.. guess I'll see you then .. then" he said. defeat in his voice

"So its all settled" she said like the cat that had got the cream.. "I'll see you this weekend.. so now go do what pays my morgage for me.. write more books Mort"

Mort glanced up to the second story and his desk.. "I am .. trying" he replied

"Don't worry.. a weekend of being pamperewd at the publishers expense is the best known cure for writers block.. "

"And if its not?" he said.. smiling

"Well those blood suckers have paid so its a win win" she said.. her tone light

"Blood suckers?. " Mort replied "Funny thats what they call you" he said a smile in his voice

"Well they would.. they are the proverbial stones I get blood out of.. for you, darling.. so be nice.. "

"Yeah like you keep telling me.. your on ..my side" Mort said with a tone of irony

"And so I am.. you've been very good to me. me and my B.M.W. thank you" she chuckled.. "Ok are we done here baby, cos I got other calls backing up?"

"We're done.. I've been done.. so your work here is at an end"

"I'll make it up to you this weekend.. I promise, Mort.. It'll be fun" she laughed again..

"You agents .. lie SO well" Mort sighed.. but he was still smiling. funny how she always managed that.. but that was why she was his agent.. she was the best in the business.. she made losing out in a deal seem a good thing.. Course Amy hadn't liked her.. he suspected it was the skirts she wore.. Amy had always commented they allowed you to see just a little more leg than was strictly needed.. though Mort didn't know what official measurement of 'needed leg' there was.. it was that or her easy friendly tone.. she said Clara flirted with him.. but that was just cos she didn't understand the subtle power games and negotiations going on under the surface.. he didn't feel Clara ever actually flirted with him.. it was all just proffessional stuff.. the games you played in it all.. .. Games that had him smiling.. even though he had just agreed to go to one of those dreaded conferences.. Damn she was good.


	2. Chapter 2 Collected

Mort knew the car was coming to collect him, but he felt the need to take a walk through the woods. His feet seemed naturally to lead him down by the lake, he wanted to avoid it.. not just the trip to the conference.. but it all.. life.. all that stuff.. he walked almost in a daze..

He almost looked and felt like he was sleep walking. The only conection he seemed to visably have to his surroundings was a shudder in the cold breeze blowing in off the lake, at least he assumed it was that, something about the lake always made him feel uneasy these days,like some hidden monster was lurking in its depths. He sighed and chastised himself;_ you think too much and do too little. There is a book they WILL publish, that you should be writing_

"What about Shooter" he mumbled to himself

_What about him I don't see him"_his thoughts replied

"No.. but that doesn't mean he's not around.. with his own plans.. " he sighed.. the lake felt colder and less welcoming as these thoughts swam through him. He turned reluctantly though and walked back to the cabin..

The car was already waiting for him as he approached. Clara stepped from it.. "I was beginning to think you'd done a runner on us Mort" she said.. warmly

"Don't tempt me.. " he said with a slight smile "I can't believe you talked me into this"

"Second thoughts? I knew it; that's why I came along" .she replied

"Second? Make it twentieth at least" he sighed

"No backing out now! Anyway they will pamper you there and you look like you could do with some pampering. Are you eating right?"

"What your my mother now? Agent is bad enough" he sighed, but smiled slightly, he knew he was not up to winning a battle of wits with her..

"Go get your stuff" she said .. pointedly not even dignifying his quip with a response.

"I'll go get my stuff" he said wryly..

"And make sure you've got clean underwear on!" she joked as he disappeared through the cabin door.. He stuck his head back out

"My.. my Clara.. don't say your interested in my underwear? what will the gossips say!" he smiled before disappearing again.

He knew this trip was coming, he again asked himself why he had not got ready for it at all, as if ignoring it would make it disappear. It never worked before, but it seemed, he thought ironically , he was in denial about his denial. He grabbing a battered old bag and shoved some random clothes into it. It was not so much packing as a random kidnapping of what ever clothes were innocent bystanders to his panic at having nothing ready and the deadline having passed. It was a familiar feeling. He walked out onto his landing and picked his lap top from his desk. . He looked around the cabin, his sanctuary since Amy disappeared, and since all the accusations.. And bad dreams started.. or rather started again..

"Ok I am ready.. " he said walking out to where she was standing along side the car,in reality he felt, and looked anything but

"Good job I am the agent and your the writer Mort, baby, cos you make a terrible liar" Clara said with a slight smile, as she smoothes her taylored suit, as if his dehevelledness was catching.

Mort smiled weakly

"Ok.. well I am at least giving in quietly; not kicking and screaming and you having to drag me into the car" he said with a shrug

"Shame.. I like the challenge; when they put up a fight" Clara said with a slight smile. Mort looked over at her. It was hard to tell how much she was joking, at times. He climbed into the car and slumped resignedly in the back seat.. Clara climbed in beside him and told the driver to set off. She smiled dazzlingly over at him and positively purred "Don't worry.. I know its your first time.. I promise I'll be gentle with you" she said wryly.. she then laughed softly at his puzzled look. . "The first of these writer convention things.. trust me.. I will steer you away from the .. stranger types.. and keep you quite safe" she assured him

"But who is going to keep me safe from you?" he asked her weakly


	3. Chapter 3 checking in

The hotel certainly was luxurious.. but the rooms were the standard anonymous and in a way Mort welcomed that. anonymity was what he was after.. and had been for a long time; since walking into that motel room and seeing Amy and Ted..

..And here he was sitting in a hotel room.. the irony was not escaping him.. but escape was what he craved.

He had wandered the hotel for a while. avoiding going to his room for obvious reasons. But he had ended up hiding out from various fans and had eventually given in and walked up to his room. To seek another escape he flipped open his lap top and saw several e.mail messages were awaiting his attention... no peace for the wicked, he though, though he was unaware as to what he had done to warrant the way his luck was running.

He walked over to the mini bar and broke open the mini bottle of Jack Daniel's and drank it straight from the bottle. He sighed and walked back to the lap top and opened the first message. It was from Clara, and was an timetable for the conference. Book signings and God help him a speech on his writing.. God help him.. he closed it and swiftly moved on to the next message

_'You stole my story.. you put things right yet?.. I know I got my ending put right. But seems you ain't in a hurry end this.. you know you need to publish it in my name.. you know what needs doing. Or do I need to come a visiting again to remind you? Shooter. _

His blood ran cold and he dropped the empty bottle on the floor. "No.. " he murmured "You can't come back I am trying.. God knows I am trying to keep you away" he said to the screen.. he almost jumped out of his skin as there was a firm knock on his hotel room door.


	4. Chapter 4 Rap tap tapping at my door

**Chapter 4 Rap tap, tapping at my door. **

Disclaimer: Mort and Shooter do not belong to me but through the mirror I can play with them with my O.C's

Mort suddenly found it hard to breathe, he felt a terror that he was about to come face to face with Shooter again. He felt frozen to the spot, it wasn't as if his being at this conference was any kind of secret, and there were crowds of people everywhere, Shooter could walk in anytime. Though he suspected Shooter preferred to torture him more, before showing his face.. all the same first the email then this, he shakily felt for the door handle sure Shooter was the other side of it. Like tearing off a plaster the only way he could do this was without leaving himself any time to think, so he flung the door open and did a double take as it was Clara standing there, he did a slight double take.

"Ok Romeo, who were you expecting, can't say I am not hurt, first not reading my email and knowing your timetable, and two, fraternizing with the groupies, ok they can read above age 5 but they are still groupies" Clara said scathingly

"What?" Mort murmured, hardly able to take in her words, when all that was registering in his brain was that Shooter was not the one in front of him. He took a gulp of air, only then realizing he had been holding his breath

"Timetable rather than the groupie" Clara repeated irritably

"What groupie?" Mort, said getting more and more confused "Err I just read the time table.. what time is it?" he asked

"Time for 'Ask the Author' section of this conferences endless fun, today is your turn" she stated

"Oh no… " he groaned, he hated being asked about his work, he felt like such a fraud, everyone wanted to know where inspiration came from and it was the one question he would love to ban, cos truth be told, the stories just appeared, like someone else whispering inside his skull, almost like they were not his stories. Maybe that was why Shooter got to him so much, that and he didn't know what that man would really do.. though he had a nagging feeling he should know, it was as if some memory was forgotten, or a dream, gone like a stone sinking in deep water, never to see the light of day again. He let out an involuntary shudder

"Its not like your going in front of a firing squad, these people like you ,remember?" Clara prompted him

"Hence the supposed groupies? " he asked, just because that's how they talked to each other, he still felt horribly distracted

" 'Supposed', don't tell me you haven't noticed them" Clara said incredulously

"I haven't" he said genuinely, "But I am not supposed to say hat right? You told me not to" he smiled a little at her, the shaky feeling lessening a little.

"I swear Mort, you miss what's right in front of your face, your so inside your own head. Good job I am used to you author types, or I might take it personal" she said taking his arm, less to do with a friendly or supportive action, but she knew that was the only way to get him to the little 'meeting the fans scenario.

Mort let himself be lead like the condemned man, he just didn't have the energy to fight it, and anyway it felt all too inevitable that this was what was going to happen however he felt. It was a growing feeling and had its roots far beyond just a meeting with some fans


End file.
